


What Happens in Mehico

by reginamoeba



Category: Home Movies (Cartoon)
Genre: Banter, Clothed Sex, Consent, Drunk Sex, Frottage, I just really love these dummies, I wrote this instead of the script I have due tomorrow, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, My First Smut, Pear shaped men, Vacation, canon inspired, lowkey scent kink but not really, not actually canon tho, we needed more Home Movies content so here it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 16:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19429621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginamoeba/pseuds/reginamoeba
Summary: McGuirk and Lynch end up hooking up in a hotel in Cancun after a night of drinking and it doesn't go horribly.





	What Happens in Mehico

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Based on the Season 2 Episode 3 Episode "Hiatus" where McGuirk and Lynch go to Cancun. The two go out drinking and Lynch gets really wasted. The events preceding this fic are illustrated here: https://youtu.be/mAtfPurGxF8?t=349

_How the hell did this happen?_  
Lynch asked himself this as he found himself, drunk, in Mexico, pushed against a wall by his coworker and travel companion, John McGuirk. 

The last thing he remembered fully was the bar; He and McGuirk had got to talking, and somewhere around his second glass of Mescal, the conversation had turned deeply personal. 

“Y’know, my mother drank”, John said, draping himself over the bar counter, keeping a messy but firm hold on his beer glass, “She said it was better than anything else in the world”. With that, McGuirk took a big swig of his drink, slamming it down unceremoniously. Lynch supposes that he found the larger man’s melancholy enchanting, his beer fuzzy eyes somehow dazzling. He had placed his hand sloppily on McGuirk’s arm, a drunken attempt to comfort the other. “you’re drunk Lynch” McGuirk chided. 

Lynch remembered warmth, strong arms carrying his wet noodle of a body across the bar and then vaguely, asking for directions to the hotel, was he a hotel?  
_“Donde esta la hotel where we are staying at?”_

And, then, after what felt like a magic carpet ride to their door, Lynch turned to McGuirk. “Mmm, wait…” and next thing he knows, Lynch is leaning in, breathing in the other man’s boozed up breath, deciding that he needs a taste. 

The kiss was sloppy, off-center, and intoxicating. The sombrero was abandoned as, for an instant, the two seemed to have forgotten they were in public, in a strange hotel. Half lucid, Lynch reached around to McGuirk’s rear, fumbling and fondling for their room key. His first two attempts ended in nothing more than a firm grasp of the large man’s ass, causing McGuirk to grind on him with greater urgency each time. The third time, Lynch got the room key and hurriedly punched it into the door lock, never leaving McGuirk’s lips. He nearly fell into the room when the door opened but McGuirk’s firm hold on him kept him upright as they shuffled inside. 

The second the door closed, McGuirk couldn’t stop his hands from roaming all over Lynch’s body, seeking to touch every inch of the other man. Every curve of his pear-shaped form driving him wild. Lynch pressed into his touch, each movement lighting his nerve endings on fire. 

This goddamn poncho was getting in the way. McGuirk fixed that problem almost immediately, tugging the heavy and gaudy fabric over the teacher’s head and tossing it aside, eliciting a needy grumble out of the blond. The removal of the article had messed up Lynch’s combed back hair, leaving a few strands of his golden? locks to fall in his eyes. When Lynch instinctively reached up to put the strands in their proper place, McGuirk grabbed his wrist. “Don’t”, he breathed, “you look good”. 

“No, you look good” Lynch chuckled, going in to place a line of kisses down his neck in a way that would surely leave a mark the next day. Lynch, growing impatient, tugged on the coach’s waistband, dragging him toward one of the two queen size beds in their room (Lynch had made sure they had separate beds three times over but it was proving to be a useless request at this point in the evening). 

In a quick movement, accompanied by the squeak of the cheap hotel bed, Lynch pulled McGuirk’s large form on top of himself on the bed. 

McGuirk hesitated for the first time that night, pulling back to look into Lynch’s eyes. They were lidded not with his characteristic ambivalence but rather with lust, his blue irises ornamenting his blown pupils. “Listen, Lynch, before we go any further” McGuirk grumbled, “I know you’re, pretty drunk and I’m pretty drunk and I just want to make sure you’re you know, cool with all of this. What we’re doing.” 

“Does this answer your question?” Lynch said, biting his lip as he ground his hips upward to regain the friction he was desperately seeking. 

“No, Lynch I mean it. I don’t want- fuck, whatever.” McGuirk looked away, embarrassed to explain the stock he put in this. 

Lynch moved to hold McGuirk’s face in his hands, looking into his eyes with as much intensity as a drunk horny person can and said,  
“Relax, I want this. I want you, McGuirk.”

Lynch splayed himself out on the bed,  
“Now, are you going to fuck me, or am I going to have to look elsewhere to resolve this situation you caused?” 

At his words, McGuirk let out a guttural moan, feral almost, and threw himself upon the other. McGuirk’s kisses became twice as urgent now that they were horizontal, his arms seeking to embrace Lynch even closer to himself. Between each kiss, McGuirk defended his position “I’ll be damned if anyone else has you tonight. You’re all mine.” 

“Take those off”, Lynch commanded, reaching for the man’s pants, licking his lips in anticipation of what he would reveal. “Oh, right”, McGuirk said dumbly, realizing he should do the same to his associate. With a fair amount of rolling, he fumbled with Lynch’s dress shirt buttons while Lynch tugged John’s pants down. When McGuirk felt a damp heat envelop him through his boxers, he decided “screw it” and ripped Lynch’s shirt open to reveal two pert nipples and a flushed chest. He heard a muffled, “You’re paying for that” from his crotch. He would have definitely fought Lynch on that normally but, John rationalized that Lynch’s mouth was being used for something better than arguing at the moment. All he could think to say was “fuck Lynch, you’re so good” to which he received an appreciative hum.

McGuirk forgot everything but the heavenly feeling of Lynch’s mouth on him for a moment but the telltale sign of Lynch’s arousal on his thigh brought him back. Caressing his hand down Lynch’s body, McGuirk made a path towards the obvious bulge in the others’ pants. When he reached his destination, he was pleased to hear the sharp intake of breath his ministrations caused. 

Lynch suddenly popped his head up to speak, wiping the spit from his cheek, “Are you just going to tease me all night or are you going to finish the job?”  
“I have an idea”, McGuirk grunted. Taking a seated position on the bed, he pulled Lynch onto his lap. Lynch, too drunk to really keep his head up, leaned his head on McGuirk’s wide shoulders as McGuirk reached to free his straining need from the confines of his pants. 

McGuirk moved to expose both their erections to the muggy room of the hotel room, taking them in hand, and beginning a slow but pleasurable pace. On a particular jerk, Lynch threw his head back, “John, just like that. Please.” McGuirk couldn’t help but smirk at how quickly the typically composed man was falling apart. He wished he could keep a picture of the Lynch in front of him right now: sweating, mouthing at his neck, hair falling in his eyes, exposed and desiring.  
Lynch, in turn, was appreciating McGuirk’s smell in seriousness for the first time. While he used to consider the coach’s scent (some combination of beer, sweat, and Old Spice) irksome, in this context, however, the man’s musk was driving him crazy. 

For these reasons, the two found themselves near the edge, a familiar heat threatening to boil over, forgoing any conversation for desperate panting and heated kisses. McGuirk managed to say between moans, “Lynch, Lynch, gonna- fuck- gonna cum”. Lynch, too lost in the moment could only let out an “Mhm. Me too”. McGuirk sped up the pace, chasing their collective climaxes. “Come for me Lynch. I know you can. I want to see you come. Come for me kitten.” The pet name slipped from his lips before he knew what he was actually saying and the next moment, Lynch was jerking up into his hand, shouting eloquently, “FUCK, JOHN, SHIT”. Watching the other man come was enough to bring McGuirk to climax, and he too was coming over his hand, their seed mixing in his palm. 

“Mmm, that was nice”, Lynch mumbled, fading into the after-glow. Next thing McGuirk knew, Lynch was fast asleep, still slumped onto his shoulder. “Aw, Lynch, buddy.” but a quick look at the sleeping man’s face resolved any conflict. “Whatever, we’ll get clean tomorrow”. McGuirk grimaced at the mess they had made and wiped it unceremoniously on the sheets before maneuvering himself and his sleeping travel-companion-turned-lover into a more comfortable sleeping position. Soon finding himself consumed by sleep as well. 

The two awoke the next afternoon disheveled, hung over, and spooning and stayed like that until Lynch suggested they shower. Once they were dry, McGuirk turned to Lynch. “What do you say we get out of here, split a quay-sa-diluh or something?” To which Lynch responded, “It’s actually Quesa _dilla_ and yes, I would love to get one”. McGuirk rolled his eyes, “Oh, is this another fancy Mehico thing?”. Somehow, they made it to the restaurant, large glasses of water in one hand and each others’ hand in the other, both men individually hoping that what happens in Mehico wouldn’t just stay in Mehico.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for myself but also to provide the juice for @potato_salad and @cartmantw.


End file.
